


The nick on the blade

by Galacteddy



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Flashbacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, hanzo takes a sword in his hands and has a breakdown, idk what else to tell ya
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 08:29:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12250713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galacteddy/pseuds/Galacteddy
Summary: The Hanzo that Genji remembers was incredible with a sword. It was his preferred weapon, as the countless hours he spent training demonstrated. Or maybe he just felt the need to always prove himself worthy. Worthy of the family heirloom sitting in the dojo, guarded by their ancestors. Worthy of being the heir.The Genji that Hanzo remembers only ever comes up in his mind accompanied by blood. And fire. And he wishes the pain that swallows him when he touches the hilt of his old sword could even be compared to what he inflicted upon Genji.





	The nick on the blade

**Author's Note:**

> In other words, I found this sitting in my facebook memories weirdly enough, and I thought it wasn't too bad to be posted so here it is? It's very short and has an ending open to interpretation bc I'm lazyyyyyy

He doesn't know what's going through Genji's head when he puts that sword—The Sword—in his hands. He knows he hates muscle memory, and he hates all the hours he's spent training with this very sword, though. Genji's cheerful voice was what got him into the training room, but he didn't think he'd actually want to spar with swords. He feels stupid while he stares down at his hands and notices they're shaking.

 

But it's still under control, he can still them. It's just like with his bow, he's got to have steady hands to be efficient. His eyes slide further up the length of the sword, and he doesn't know if it's the little dent on the blade or Genji's body ready in front of him, but it's enough to set something off in his mind. His hands clench first on the blue cloth of the hilt, trying to still the shaking. Trying. Failing. He sees another Genji in the same stance as the one before him now. Except the one from his memories looks terrified, betrayed, pleading. The real one is wearing a mask. Underneath that, he does not know.

He doesn't have much time to think before his mind changes his surroundings. Metal walls become wood, the floor made of concrete turns into a pale tatami. He's young again, and so is Genji. He barely hears the clanking of his sword when he drops it, because the roaring of blood (or is it tears?) in his head is too loud. He recalls red, of flames and of cut flesh. And screams of pain. And his determination to fulfill his duty. What a fool he was. What a fool he still is.

His knees buckle, and the pain of metal digging into his flesh makes him partially return to himself. To the training room at the watchpoint. He curls down on himself, his head touching his knees, his hands covering his ears. Trying to keep the sound of Genji's screams when the dojo started to burn. What he can't cover up though is the sound of the real Genji's voice. He vaguely hears him asking him if he's alright. There's two worlds, two times superimposing on each other in his mind.

Has it ever even mattered? Whether or not he's feeling fine. He isn't the one that got murdered by his brother. He isn't the one that almost had his life ripped away from him by someone so close to him. He isn't the one that deserves to still have a human body. He knows it, because he thinks about it almost every time he watches the sleek white and green design of Genji's new body. He feels those two metal hands (not as cold as one would expect) on his shoulders as he shakes like a leaf on the floor of the training room.

He doesn't deserve to ever feel fine anyway.

 

 Hanzo's always been the quiet sort. Not because he didn't wish to speak to the people around him, but because he had nothing to say. He prefers listening anyway, unlike Genji. He thinks of him, of the way he used to dye his hair in a bright and obnoxious green, of the way he used to be able to sweep anyone off their feet be it in a romantic way or in a fight. Of the way his golden eyes crinkled when he smiled. It makes his frown deepen. He deprived Genji of all these things when he ran his sword through him.

His hands clench slightly on top of his thighs, but he does not move from his kneeling position. It's been a relatively relaxed week at the watchpoint, but that doesn't mean they should let their guard down. So he stays out at night and watches for intruders, even though he knows that if there would be any Athena would detect them way before he did. It's his excuse to get some fresh air and look at the ocean rumbling beneath the watchpoint, so he ignores all his teammates trying to convince him to get some sleep at night.

He feels him before he even hears him move, but maybe it's his trained senses that make him turn to see Genji standing still in the shadows. His mask's deadpan is slightly unnerving, and so not Genji that Hanzo can never look at him in the face without frowning. He frowns often. Hana has teased him plenty about wrinkles and white hair and old age, but to be honest he's never minded much. The vanity of his young years has long since faded.

“Have Angela and McCree not managed to convince you to sleep instead of playing security camera, brother?” Genji says in a teasing tone. Hanzo thinks that he doesn't deserve this sort of forgiveness at all, but he cannot do anything about it. He's tired of fighting with Genji. Instead he sighs and returns his gaze to the watchpoint. The moonlight and solitude have always been his favored companions, so he's not used to breathing so close to him at night. Except it's not breathing, the sound Genji makes now when he inhales and exhales air. It's a faint whirring. It makes Hanzo's soul ache. Again, he conveys his thoughts through a frown.

“Did you come all the way up here just to tease me, Genji?” his name still feels weird when said out loud. He isn't used to it anymore.


End file.
